by Boris Akunin
That was when things really started hotting up.
With a war cry halfway between a whistle and a hiss that made my skin crawl, Mme Kleber grabbed a fruit knife from the table and made a mad dash at the Russian. The sudden attack caught him by surprise. The blunt silver blade swung through the air and stabbed Fandorin just below his collarbone, but I do not think it went very deep. The diplomat's white shirt was stained red with blood. My first thought was: God does exist, and he punishes scoundrels. As he staggered backwards, the villainous Byzantine dodged to one side, but the enraged Fury was not satisfied with the damage she had inflicted, and taking a firmer grip on the handle, she raised her hand to strike again.
And then our Japanese colleague, who had so far taken no part in the discussion and remained almost unnoticed, astonished us all. With a piercing cry like the call of an eagle, he leapt up almost as high as the ceiling and struck Mme Kleber on the wrist with the toe of his shoe. Not even in the Italian circus have I ever seen a trick to match that!
The fruit knife went flying into the air, the Japanese landed in a squatting position and Mme Kleber staggered backwards with her face contorted, clutching her injured wrist.
But still she would not abandon her bloodthirsty intent! When she felt her back strike the grandfather clock (I have already written to you about that monster), she suddenly bent down and lifted up the hem of her dress. I was already dazed by the speed of events, but this was too much. I caught a glimpse (forgive me, my sweet Emily, for mentioning this) of a slim ankle clad in a silk stocking and the frills of a pair of pink pantaloons, and a second later when Mme Kleber straightened up a pistol had appeared out of nowhere in her left hand. It was very small and double-barrelled, finished with mother-of-pearl.
I do not dare repeat to you word for word exactly what this creature said to Fandorin - in any case you probably do not know the meaning of such expressions. The general sense of her speech, which was most forceful and expressive, was that the 'rotten pervert' (I employ euphemisms, for Mme Kleber expressed herself rather more crudely) would pay for his lousy trick with his life. 'But first I shall neutralize this venomous yellow snake!' cried the mother-to-be: she took a step forward and fired at Mr Aono, who fell on his back with a dull groan.
Mme Kleber took another step and pointed her pistol straight at Fandorin's face. 'I really do never miss,' she hissed. And I'm going to put a bullet right between those pretty blue eyes of yours.'
The Russian stood there, pressing his hand to the red patch spreading across his shirt. He was not exactly quaking with fear, but he was pale all right.
The ship heeled over harder than usual - a large wave had struck it amidships - and I saw that ugly monstrosity, Big Ben, lean further and further over, and then ... it collapsed right onto Mme Kleber! There was a dull thud as the hard wood struck the back of her head and the irrepressible woman collapsed flat on her face, pinned down by the heavy oak tower.
Everyone dashed across to Mr Aono, who was still lying on the floor with a bullet in his chest. The wounded man was conscious and kept trying to get up, but Dr Truffo squatted down beside him and pressed on his shoulders to make him lie back. The doctor cut open his clothes to examine the entry wound and frowned.
'It is nothing,' the Japanese said in a low voice through clenched teeth. 'The lung is barely grazed.'
'And the bullet,' Truffo asked in alarm. 'Can you feel it, my dear colleague? Where is it?'
'I think the bullet is stuck in the right shoulder blade,' replied Mr
Aono, adding with astonishing composure, 'The lower left quadrant. You will have to section the bone from the back. That is very difficult. Please forgive me for causing you such inconvenience.'
Then Fandorin said something very mysterious. He leaned over the wounded man and said in a quiet voice: 'Well now, Aono-san, your dream has come true - now you are my onjin. I am afraid the free Japanese lessons will have to be cancelled.'
Mr Aono, however, seemed to understand this gibberish perfectly well and he even managed a feeble smile.
When the Japanese gentleman had been bandaged up and carried away on a stretcher by sailors, the doctor turned his attention to Mme Kleber.
We were jolly surprised to discover that the solid oak had not smashed her skull, but only given her a substantial bump on the head. We pulled the stunned criminal out from under London's finest sight and moved her to an armchair.
'I'm afraid the baby will not survive the shock,' sighed Mrs Truffo. "The poor little thing is not to blame for his mother's sins.'
'The baby will be all right,' her husband assured her. 'This . . . lady possesses such tremendous vitality that she will certainly have a healthy child, with an easy birth at full term.'
Fandorin added, with a cynicism that I found offensive: "There is reason to hope that the birth will take place in a prison hospital.'
'It is terrible to think what will be born from that womb,' Miss Stamp said, with a shudder.
'In any case, the pregnancy will save her from the guillotine,' remarked the doctor.
'Or from the gallows,' laughed Miss Stamp, reminding us of the bitter wrangling between Commissioner Gauche and Inspector Jackson.
"The most serious threat she faces is a short prison sentence for the attempted murder of Mr Aono,' Fandorin remarked with a sour face. 'And extenuating circumstances will be found for that: temporary insanity, shock, the pregnancy. As she herself demonstrated quite brilliantly, it will be quite impossible to prove anything else. I assure you, Marie Sanfon will be at liberty again very soon.'
It is strange, but none of us mentioned the shawl, as if it had never even existed, as if the scrap of silk that had carried off into oblivion a hundred British battleships and the French revanche had also taken with it the feverish stupor that had shrouded our minds and souls.
Fandorin stopped beside his fallen Big Ben, which was now fit for nothing but the rubbish tip: the glass was broken, the mechanism was smashed and the oak panel was cracked from top to bottom.
'A magnificent clock,' said the Russian, confirming yet again the well-known fact that the Slavs have no artistic taste whatever. 'I shall certainly have it repaired and take it with me.'
The Leviathan gave a mighty hoot on its whistle, no doubt in greeting to some passing vessel, and I began thinking that very soon, in just two or three weeks, I shall arrive in Tahiti and we shall meet again, my adored little wife. Everything else is mere mist and vapour, an insubstantial fantasy.
We shall be together and we shall be happy in our island paradise, where the sun always shines.
In anticipation of that joyful day, I remain your tenderly loving
Reginald Milford-Stokes.
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